


A letter to her

by Loki_Slytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Could Be Canon, F/F, Friendship is Magic, Lesbian Character, Letters, Love Letters, Romantic Friendship, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29330493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Slytherin/pseuds/Loki_Slytherin
Summary: Hermione writes a letter to Ginny one cold winter.Could be romantic or platonic relationship depends on what you prefer. Based on the Laura Marling song Goodbye England
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 3





	A letter to her

To my dearest Ginny.

The world is a cold and cruel place, is it not? A plague racing around the world, and the harsh hand of fate bestows the burden of a harsh winter upon us. A winter made harsher by how it keeps us apart. Of course, to say I hate winter and the snow she brings would be a lie. I do not believe in love, if I could I'd sit down with you and explain why, but if I could ever say I loved England it would be when she is covered in snow.

There is peace in snow that is absent in any other weather. The rain brings misery, the sun brings exhaustion, the wind brings anger. Snow alone brings me comfort. The solitude and isolation that snow brings is of course a pity, but perhaps a blessing too.

When I was younger, snow brought a dream. My dream was simple, a child's dream. In my fictional reality, the snow would fall around me, blocking us into the house. I'd wear a little red scarf and I'd lie by the fire eating stew and drinking hot chocolate. And reading, of course, some old classics bound in leather. Sometimes I'd imagine that the characters from the novels would come a knocking at the door, and we could relate tales of our adventures.

God, Ginny, if you could be in my fantasy I'd wrap you up in my little red scarf and sit you by the fire. You and I together forever in an old, aesthetic version of England.

Anyway, perhaps that is enough musing on childhood fantasies.

Earlier today, I went on a walk from my home. I walked out across the fields. Everything was so beautiful all covered in white. At one point I realized I was not walking on solid land, but instead across a flood, completely iced over. The ice protested and cracked beneath my weight, but to my eternal relief, held firm.

In truth, Ginny, I have little to tell you about my days. I have done almost nothing. My days are filled with darkness and sorrow. I try to pretend that I'm fine, but I know my darling mother sees through m,y mask. I try to empty my room, hoping that perhaps something in here is making me blue. I am yet to solve that puzzle.

Anyway, how are you?

God, if I could, I'd take your hand in mine and lead us away. I'd take you to Venice and we could ride gondolas down the canals, or I'd take you to Paris to see the Mona Lisa. We could listen to Mozart or Beethoven in Vienna, and I would take us all around Europe. Rome, Prague, Budapest, Berlin, Amsterdam, Madrid, Lisbon, Copenhagen. Then I'd take you out of Europe, to the pyramids of Egypt and the markets of Marrakesh. We could be a part of the bustling life of New York and Tokyo.

Then I'd buy you a castle, filled with every treasure you could imagine. Jewels, sparkling rubies and emeralds. Dresses in a rainbow of colour. Books, enough books to fill a library. Every book worth reading. I'd write your name name in every single book, just so the world would know they belong to you. I doubt any god knows why I'd do that, I must confess I myself do not. Perhaps I'd write your name there because then I'd give you power, the power that comes not with ownership but with knowledge. After all, are books not the easiest way of learning?

Books give us an escape, and with that escape, and with that escape they teach us all they know about the world. Books are the single most precious invention of this world. Without the art of literature, the world would be a far grimmer place. Of course, without music, performance, paintings or poetry, the world would also be grimmer. It is a miracle as to how some words scribbled on paper makes life so much better.

Anyway, I could keep writing this letter until it was 22 pages full and back, but then it would be too good to send. And so it is here I sign off.

All my love,

Hermione.


End file.
